


Doorstep

by Madworld



Series: Sherlock pairings and the weather [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas party at 221b, F/M, Fluff, Greg's wife is cheating again, M/M, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-04 05:20:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5321954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madworld/pseuds/Madworld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock tactlessly informs Greg that his wife is cheating again. Mycroft follows him when he leaves for some 'fresh air'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doorstep

“Greg?”

Mycroft gingerly nudges the back door a little wider so he can stand beside the detective.

Noise from the gathering inside leaks through and taints the cold air. 

“Yeah?” 

He’s hunched on the cold steps, gazing hollowly at the winter sky. 

“Whiskey” Mycroft says simply, he raises an eyebrow although the detective can’t see it. 

He places the stocky bottle on the stone beside Greg.

It clinks dully.

Watching the whiskey in his own glass, as if trying to steady it’s quivering surface with his eyes, he sits down beside him.

Greg hmphs roughly without breaking his solid forward stare.

Mycroft pulls a face and picks up the whiskey bottle again.

“I am aware that, according to most people, I am not the best company…but-“

He begins dryly, pausing to take Greg’s glass from his numb fingers and delicately pour the whiskey. 

The silence grows again, around the hollow gulping of the pouring bottle. 

“I’m afraid I’m all you’ve got” He resumes, placing the bottle back down and handing the detective his glass. 

He takes it automatically but then glances at it and states flatly. 

“I don’t drink whiskey” 

Mycroft shrugs elegantly and reaches inside his pocket for a cigarette.

“You do tonight” 

Greg looks at him for a minute as he lights his cigarette and takes a long drag. 

He looks away, following the elusive smoke as it melts into the frosty air. 

“I guess I do”


End file.
